BreaktheChains.info

Saturday, September 01, 2012

August 30, 2012by actforfreedomActforfreedomnow!/ receives and transmits and translated to English

Week of mobilization and international solidarity from
September 21 to September 30, for all our comrades kidnapped all over
the world.

The survival of capitalism is so monotonous and is structured in such
a way that it is not so different from that of cruel prison. Cities,
timetables, work, school, family and countless repressive bodies are
suffocating us in a way that resembles a big prison unit. Surveillance
cameras 24 hours a day, thousands of cops defending property, severe
judges smiling satisfied when they enforce their harsh laws, tight
handcuffs before their impregnable cages, etc, etc: this is what society
uses in order to keep individuals under control; those who, fearing the
punishment reserved to those who trespass the codes of imposed
behaviour, stay silent, get used to oppression, absorb it like an
integral part of life, like something natural, and so they prefer to
avoid conflict with authority instead of rebelling. The powerful in all
States don’t spare any efforts to repress and imprison those who
have set themselves against the existent.

But today we are not going to write about survival within capitalism.
We want to greet those who did not hesitate to trespass their moral
enclosures and fought power face to face, those who today are inside the
most blatant edifice of repression, prison. We are writing to express
our solidarity with our comrades in jail. Power attacks by imprisoning
comrades and organizes itself in order to crush the ideas of
freedom. The revenge of power particularly hits well known individuals
who openly declare themselves antiauthoritarian or anarchist and make an
important weapon of struggle out of the spreading of ideas-deeds, as
happened in Italy, Bolivia and Chile. The spectre generating from the
possibility of an international web (we don’t mean any kind of
organization) must continue to materialize like a real proposal.

A web through which comrades in different parts of the world - who don’t
know one another nor will they ever meet, don’t obey any kind of
structure or need any ideologies or ‘leaders’, can unite their will,
efforts and complicity in order to face dominion in all its aspects, and
with different instruments can overcome language barriers and
fictitious borders and establish links of solidarity by overcoming false
impositions…
Therefore, from September 21 to September 30, we call for a week of
unrest and solidarity with our brothers and sisters, with comrades
kidnapped all over the world. It shouldn’t be necessary to make calls
for a week of unrest, as we normally don’t like to do this because
‘solidarity’ does not knows calendar dates. But actions are being
diluted in the endless chasm of information and in ‘so-called local
struggles’, whereas the concentration of our energies in a limited
period of time will help us to give a renewed and constant impulse to
the struggle against prison and the spreading of libertarian ideas. Any
action, any word of support gives strength and courage
to prisoners. And in this struggle for total liberation we don’t forget
the repression suffered by millions of animals locked up in zoos,
circuses and laboratories. We must struggle for their liberation.

This is a call to say, by multiform actions and different
instruments, that our imprisoned comrades are not forgotten. Our actions
of solidarity elude all watchtowers and run over kilometres of ocean in
order to embrace all the irreducible standing out in the struggle
inside and outside prison. However we put the abstract imposition of
borders into question, since so-called internationalism shouldn’t be
such, considering that ‘in the world of bosses we are all foreigners.’

Rebel greetings to:

-In Chile: Luciano Pitronello “Tortuga”, Carla
Verdugo and Iván Silva, the comrades of so-called “Segurity case”: Juan
Aliste Vega, Marcelo Villarroel, Freddy Fuentevilla. To Alberto
Olivares, Juan Tapia and to the brother and sister on the run Gabriela
Curilem and Diego Rios. And to those arrested in street struggles;
Sebastian “Chasca” Fajardo, Eduardo “Mecha” Garay, and to all those
standing trial for street clashes.

-In Germany: Gabriel Pombo da Silva, and Sonja Suder and her
codefendant Christian Gauger (the latter two were captured last year
after 33 years on the run

-In Spain: Tamara Hernández (now free on bail, she
was sentenced to 8 years awaiting partial amnesty to shorten her
sentence), Claudio Lavazza and Juan Rico.

-To the comrades imprisoned in Russia and Belorrussia.

And above all to all the prisoners in struggle and the comrades on the run in Greece (the comrades of the Cells of Fire, Revolutionary Struggle and all those imprisoned for their antiauthoritarian practice).

And to all the prisoners who set themselves at war also from inside the cages all over the world…Until the destruction of the last bastion of the prison society!With anger and love… see you in the streets!
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Here's the latest compilation of every other week updates. We've mailed
hard copies to Sundiata Acoli, Joe-Joe Bowen, David Gilbert, Marie Mason,
Eric McDavid, Daniel McGowan, Jalil Muntaqim and Sekou Odinga. Please
download and mail the current edition to prisoners with whom you
correspond and share links with those who might be interested in doing the
same:

Here is the
political prisoner birthday poster for September. As always, please post
this poster publicly and/or use it to start a card writing night of
your own.

There are a lot of updates this month.

Firstly, there is a call for a day of action against mass
incarceration on September 21st on the anniversary of the execution of
Troy Davis. Find out more info here.

Also coming up, on September 12th, immediately before the one-year anniversary of Occupy Wall Street, the crimethinc. ex-workers collective will meet Chris Hedges
in New York City for a public debate about diversity of tactics. This
debate will be free and open to the public, and livestreamed for those
who can’t attend. More info and a link to the livestream can be found here.

New evidence
points to the “Abuse of State Power” and revengeful retaliation by the
Greensboro Police in the RICO case against Latin King Jorge Cornell and
other NC Latin Kings. Their trial has been set for October 15th. Jorge
Cornell’s birthday is this month, so be sure to send him some words of
encouragement.

It certainly hurts to have to relay the news that once again Sundiata Acoli has
been denied parole. His case has been referred to a panel of three
people to determine the amount of time he will have to serve before
becoming eligible for another hearing. Sundiata is now 74 years old and
has served nearly 40 of those years in federal prison. Please take a
moment to write him a card or letter
.
(Sundiata Acoli) Clark Squire #39794-066
FCI Cumberland
Post Office Box 1000
Cumberland, Maryland 21501-1000

On August 4th it was announced that prisoners at Central in Raleigh
voted to end their hunger strike, started on July 16th in protest of
conditions on Unit 1. We have not heard from prisoners at Bertie or
Scotland. Small groups of prisoners at Foothills CI and Tabor CI have
also said they have joined the protest. More info here. Information on reprisals against alleged organizers can be found here.
A prisoner at Polk CI in Butner, NC recently published a new account of life in solitary (specifically, HCON). Titled Voices from the Tombs of H-CON, it functions as an expose of the torturous conditions of solitary confinement in America. You can view the text in full here, or on our resources page.
The latest edition of Earth First! Newsletter is out. This issue
includes recent dispatches from the eco-wars, an updated directory of
environmental action groups, prisoner support listing, events calendar,
and a clever new tip for ol’ Ned Ludd. This is a great resource for your
distro table or infoshop. You can find a photo-copyable pdf of it here.

Lastly, here
is a link to the latest Political Prisoner/Prisoner Of War every-other
week update by the NYC-Anarchist Black Cross. There are lots of good
updates on many political prisoners.

Strikes involving thousands of prisoners at 21 institutions continue in Colombia against the humanitarian crisis in the jails. Overcrowding
is rampant and in many prisons the availability of potable water and
clean, unspoiled food is severely restricted. There is little adequate
health care, especially for the seriously ill. For instance, José
Lamprea is a prisoner whose four year sentence is in danger of turning
into a death penalty. Confined to a wheel chair by what may be bone
cancer, he has still not received medical treatement that was court
ordered in November, 2011.

Torture is so commonplace in the jails that a 2008 study by
Colombia’s Committee in Solidarity with the Political Prisoners showed
that when asked if the inmates had been tortured at least once during
their jail time, 54% answered they had and 46% did not answer the
question at all. Eighty-six percent said that they had experienced
psychological torture, including threats to relatives and simulated
executions.

Conditions in Colombian prisons should be of special concern for
residents and citizens of the United States. In 2000, the US Ambassador
signed an agreement with the Colombian Minister of the Interior named
the Program for the Improvement of the Colombian Prison System (PICPS).
Under the PICPS, the US would help build a series of new prisons to
create a “New Penitentiary Culture”.
This effort has been funded and advised via USAID (United States Agency
for International Development) and the US Bureau of Prisons.

One reason given for this program was to alleviate overcrowding.
However, rates of arrests went up far more quickly than new jails and
the number of political arrests that were later thrown out of court for
lack of evidence rose by 300% (with most of the accused spending two to
three years in jail before release). This does not include political
prisoners who have been convicted for their activities. The estimated
number of political prisoners has grown from 7,200 to over 10,000 since
2008.
New jail construction has been less about relieving overcrowding than
preparing for a much larger prison population as a result of social and
economic disruption and punishing political dissent. With passage of
the US-Colombia Free Trade Agreement many observers fear that poverty
rates will worsen and crimes of desperation and prison populations will
increase. Unfortunately, US and Colombian authorities see the “New
Penitentiary Culture” as a model and are seeking to replicate it in Central
America (where in Honduras the US has announced a new “Model
Penitentiary” program) and Mexico (where the US is funding construction
of 16 new federal prisons).

According to Tulio Murillo Avila, who is a national spokesperson for
the Movimiento Nacional Carcelario (National Movement in the Jail),

Jail over-population…is not a new thing,
being found today at a national level of 47%, due to the policies of
punishment…in the new centers of incarcerations constructed under the
influence of the US Bureau of Prisons. In some jails the overcrowding
has reached 400%.

Bellavista Jail in Medellín

In a video-recorded interview with the Colombian media outlet RPASUR (Western Colombia Alternative Press Network- www.rpasur.com
), one prisoner representative reported that, “The gravest are the
problems with hygiene in the jails and overcrowding. Colombia has a
capacity for 78,000 prisoners. We find in Colombia more than 130,000
prisoners.”Almost one-third of the incarcerated are
unconvicted persons awaiting trial who are mixed in with the general
population and are often subjected to processes that take years before a
verdict is rendered.

The first prison constructed with US funding and advice was La Tramacúa,
located in the city of Valledupar. Although a “modern” facility built
on the basis of US designs, it has become infamous for its terrible
conditions. La Tramacúa has been found on at least three occasions (by
agencies from the United Nations and the Department of César, as well as
by an internatinoal NGO) to be serving food tainted with fecal matter.
Sanitary facilities are rarely working and inmates are forced to relieve
themselves in buckets and plastic bags which are “disposed of” by being
thrown over prison walls.
In 2010, Raquel Mogollón, a member of the Alliance for Global Justice
“Colombia Watch” working group, had the chance to visit La Tramacúa
with a delegation of Colombian legislators and international human
rights defenders. According to Mogollón,

…Inmates say they’re getting access to
water about ten minutes a day. However, in the cells there is
water…disgusting, dirty water on the floors. [Editor's Note: Past
visitors at La Tramacúa have reported that sewage lines often overflow
and open sewage runs by kitchen facilities.]

The prison was absolutely, suffocatingly
hot with just a few water pipes. What was really bad–I got a look at the
water bottles. They were all full of mold. They aren’t able to clean
their water jugs. There’s just not enough water available. At one point,
you could hear the water coming through the pipes. All the men started
running….

The whole place smelled. They said it was
cleaned up for us. Mostly, it smelled like urine. They said the bags of
feces had been gotten rid of….

The kitchen area was totally dark. They
said they’d cleaned that up, too, but it wasn’t that clean. There were
three fans and ten giant cauldrons where they were cooking some soup or
stew. In the other room where they prepared the food, it was full of
flies. There was grease all over the floor. It didn’t smell very good. I
saw vegetables and fruit that were spoiled in the preparation area,
with flies all around them.

Prisoner collecting daily water at La Tramacúa

Since the beginning of the PICPS, there has been a series of prisoner
strikes against such conditions. More often than not they have been
violently repressed. Beginning on August 2, 2012, nonviolent resistance
began that has included as many as 11,000 prisoners in 21 institutions
and is still continuing. Prisoners have used a number of different
tactics including hunger strikes, the refusal to participate in prison
counts or work programs or to wear prison uniforms, and self-suspension
from prison balconies and railings in make-shift hammocks and harnesses.
The number one demand of the prisoners is that the Colombian government
establish a National Board of Consultation that includes prisoner
spokespersons in order to resolve the crisis in the jails.
The prisoners have formulated an additional five basic demands:

Declare a Social and Humanitarian Emergency in Colombian jails;

Regionalize prisoners in institutions near their families;

Reduce all sentences by 20% and increase the use of alternative sentences such as home detention;

Resolve problems of health, sanitation and overcrowding;

End the extradition of prisoners to foreign countries (which is
interfering with Colombia’s internal peace process and in ongoing
investigations of links between paramilitary death squads and Colombian
politicians).

The response of the Colombian Bureau of Prisons (INPEC) has so far been yet more repression and neglect. On August 10th,
according to the legal collective and political prisoner solidarity
organization Lazos de Dignidad (Links of Dignity), which, along with Traspasa los Muros (Beyond the Walls), which they co-founded, has been one of the primary outside organizations supporting the strikers,

…prisoners of the La Modelo jail in
Arauca informed us that, in the morning hours, INPEC guards physically
attacked four prisoners in Patio One…in reprisal for their participation
in the National Days of Protest…..The attacked prisoners were placed in
solitary confinement instead of being…attended by medical personnel….

The 12th of August of 2012, in
the afternoon hours, spokespersons for the 34 hunger strikers at the
Penitentiary Complex of Picaleña (Ibagué, Tolima), informed us that the
state of the strikers has deteriorated, [and they are] suffering severe
dizziness, nausea, stomach sickness, cramps, fainting and decreased
mobility, without INPEC offering adequate medical attention….

Of particular concern at La Picaleña has been the condition of
prisoner spokesperson Alba Libia Esquivel whose health has been
especially affected. Esquivel has been on a hunger strike since August 8th.

Lazos also reported that on August 23,

…in the afternoon hours, the Immediate
Reaction Group (GRI) of INPEC entered the High Security Penitentiary in
Combita, Boyacá, in a violent manner, proceding to launch tear gas and
to beat the strikers, leaving various wounds….Those wounded have been
taken in stretchers from their units, their whereabouts unknown.”

On August 27, according to a report from Lazos,

…in the jail of Valledupar, “La
Tramacúa”…inmates of Tower Four climbed the structure as a form of
protest of the present crisis in the jails. In the morning hours…Sgt.
Lucio entered with a group of guards launching tear gas and repressing
the protest and attacking the inmates with clubs. The prisoner Wilson
Jiménez Mora, who was found suspended from the structure, was thrown
from the third floor resulting in a fractured leg.

Isolation from families is the single most oft-cited prisoner
complaint. Most prisoners come from impoverished backgrounds and
families cannot afford trips to visit faraway prisons. Also, given
Colombia’s difficult terrain, and the lack of infrastructure
development, a trip of 200 miles can routinely take 12-15 hours in the
mountainous regions.

Mogollón tells of a particularly poignant encounter she had while visiting inside La Tramacúa:

The worst thing, the worst kind of
torture, wasn’t any kind of violence or anything like that. It seems
little, but so many people came up to me and told me about not being
able to see their families, being completely shut off. When we walked
between the Towers, the prisoners were all bunched up around the gates.
People would be calling to me, ‘Doctora! Doctora! Madre! Madre!’ They
would want me to write their names down.

One man said, ‘I’ve been here eight years! I can’t see my daughter!’

Another said, ‘I’ve been here twelve years and I haven’t seen my mother the whole time!’

It was one plea after another like that,
people who hadn’t seen their families for years. When I asked why, one
man responded, ‘We’re poor. Our families can’t afford to make the long
trips. And when we think of them coming in here, how it smells like
feces, it’s so humiliating, so disgusting. It is so hard to think of
them seeing us like this.

Mogollón again talked about the pleas she would hear as she walked through the institution’s halls.

We
would have to walk through these passageways that crisscrossed among
the different units. All the prisoners would be crammed up at the gates
and windows, calling to me, “Doctora! Doctora!’ or ‘Madre! Madre!’. I
would put my hand up just to acknowledge them. They would give me papers
with their names on them. One inmate called to me, ‘Please, please,
Madre! I’ve been here six years and I have two hernias. I can’t get
treatment, I can’t get medicine!’

Another told me, ‘Look, you’ve got to listen! There is no re-socialization here! There’s no such thing!’

Finally, at one point I stopped in one of
the passageways and spoke back to them. I said, ‘Look, I wish I could
help each one of you, but I can’t! I can’t because this place is modeled
on a US system. This model is based on punishment and the people who
designed this system don’t care about re-socialization. They don’t care
what happens to you! All I can do is to go back and do what I can to
change this whole system and draw attention to what you are suffering.

All of a sudden, they started clapping, yelling, ‘Go on!’ and ‘You speak the truth!’

And that is what we must do here in the US: we must go and speak the
truth about this situation our government has helped create. We must
intervene on behalf of Colombia’s prisoners—not only the more than
10,000 political prisoners, but on behalf of all those whose lives have
been broken by the US/Corporate Empire and the neoliberal economic and
political system it tries to impose throughout the world.

Here are some things that you can do.

Cut and paste the follwing sample in Spanish or write your own
message and email it to the following Colombian, United Nations and US
State Department Officials, and to AfGJ, at:

The whole world is watching what is taking place in Colombian
prisons. We know that Colombian prisons are overcrowded; that many
prisons are not providing their inmates with basic necessities such as
clean food and water and basic health care; that violence against
prisoners is epidemic; that rehabilitation services are severely limited
in favor of policies of punishment and neglect. I support Colombia’s
striking prisoners in demanding better conditions and, especially, the
declaration of a State of Emergency in the Colombian penal system and
the establishment of a National Board of Consultation, including
spokespersons for the prisoners, to remedy this situation.

Call or fax the Colombian Embassy in Washington, DC, using the above
sample or your own words. They can be reached at 202-387-8388 or you
can send them a fax at 202-232-8643.

There’s a very good chance that your Representative and Senators in
the US Congress do not even know about the US-sponsored PICPS and the
“New Penitentiary Culture”. We encourage you to set up a visit with your
elected representatives to educate them about this issue and to demand
that they use their influence to call on the Colombian government to
take immediate action to improve conditions in the prisons and to call
for a Congressional investigation of the PICPS and the conditions it has
lead to in prisons such as La Tramacúa. We must also ask them to
intervene to stop this model from being further imported into Central
America and Mexico. If you would be willing to organize such a visit,
please send an email to James@afgj.org to receive background material for your visit.

This article is
from the mainstream media in South Africa but has invaluable details on
what actually happened when the police left 35 strikers dead and another
78 injured.

The murder fields of Marikana. The cold murder fields of Marikana.

The majority of the dead in the 16
August massacre at Marikana appear to have been shot at close range or
crushed by police vehicles. They were not caught in a fusillade of
gunfire from police defending themselves, as the official account would
have it. GREG MARINOVICH spent two weeks trying to understand what
really happened. What he found was profoundly disturbing.

Of the 34 miners killed at Marikana, no more than a dozen of the dead
were captured in news footage shot at the scene. The majority of those
who died, according to surviving strikers and researchers, were killed
beyond the view of cameras at a nondescript collection of boulders some
300 metres behind Wonderkop.

On one of these rocks, encompassed closely on all sides by solid
granite boulders, is the letter ‘N’, the 14th letter of the alphabet.
Here, N represents the 14th body of a striking miner to be found by a
police forensics team in this isolated place. These letters are used by
forensics to detail were the corpses lay.

There is a thick spread of blood deep into the dry soil, showing that
N was shot and killed on the spot. There is no trail of blood leading
to where N died – the blood saturates one spot only, indicating no
further movement. (It would have been outside of the scope of the human
body to crawl here bleeding so profusely.)

Approaching N from all possible angles, observing the local
geography, it is clear that to shoot N, the shooter would have to be
close. Very close, in fact, almost within touching distance. (After
having spent days here at the bloody massacre site, it does not take too
much imagination for me to believe that N might have begged for his
life on that winter afternoon.)

And on the deadly Thursday afternoon, N’s murderer could only have
been a policeman. I say murderer because there is not a single report on
an injured policeman from the day. I say murderer because there seems
to have been no attempt to uphold our citizens’ right to life and fair
recourse to justice. It is hard to imagine that N would have resisted
being taken into custody when thus cornered. There is no chance of
escape out of a ring of police.

Other letters denote equally morbid scenarios. J and H died alongside
each other. They, too, had no route of escape and had to have been shot
at close range.

Other letters mark the rocks nearby. A bloody handprint stains a
vertical rock surface where someone tried to support themselves standing
up; many other rocks are splattered with blood as miners died on the
afternoon of 16 August.

None of these events were witnessed by media or captured on camera.
They were only reported on as component parts in the sum of the greater
tragedy.

One of the striking miners caught up in the mayhem, let’s call him
“Themba”, though his name is known to the Daily Maverick, recalled what
he saw once he escaped the killing fields around Wonderkop.

“Most people then called for us to get off the mountain, and as we
were coming down, the shooting began. Most people who were shot near the
kraal were trying to get into the settlement; the blood we saw is
theirs. We ran in the other direction, as it was impossible now to make
it through the bullets.
“We ran until we got to the meeting spot and watched the incidents at
the koppie. Two helicopters landed; soldiers and police surrounded the
area. We never saw anyone coming out of the koppie.”
The soldiers he refers to were, in fact, part of the police task team
dressed in camouflage uniforms, brought to the scene in a brown
military vehicle. Asked about this, Themba said he believed people were
hiding at the koppie, and police went in and killed them.

In the days after the shooting, Themba visited friends at the nearby
mine hospital. “Most people who are in hospital were shot at the back.
The ones I saw in hospital had clear signs of being run over by the
Nyalas,” he said. “I never got to go to the mortuary, but most people
who went there told me that they couldn’t recognise the faces of the
dead (they were so damaged by either bullets of from being driven
over).”

It is becoming clear to this reporter that heavily armed police
hunted down and killed the miners in cold blood. A minority were killed
in the filmed event where police claim they acted in self-defence. The
rest was murder on a massive scale.

Peter Alexander, chair in Social Change and professor of Sociology at
the University of Johannesburg, and two researchers interviewed
witnesses in the days after the massacre. Researcher Botsong Mmope spoke
to a miner, Tsepo, on Monday 20 August. Tsepo (not his real name)
witnessed some of the events that occurred off camera.

“Tsepo said many people had been killed at the small koppie and it
had never been covered (by the media). He agreed to take us to the small
koppie, because that is where many, many people died,” Mmope said.

After the shooting began, Tsepo said, he was among many who ran
towards the small koppie. As the police chased them, someone among them
said, “Let us lie down, comrades, they will not shoot us then.”

“At that time, there were bullets coming from a helicopter above
them. Tsepo then lay down. A number of fellow strikers also lay down. He
says he watched Nyalas driving over the prostrate, living miners,”
Mmope said. “Other miners ran to the koppie, and that was where they
were shot by police and the army** with machine guns.” (** Several
witnesses and speakers at the miners' gathering referring to the army,
or amajoni, actually refer to a police task team unit in camouflage
uniforms and carrying R5 semi-automatic files on the day. – GM)

When the firing finally ceased, Tsepo managed to escape across the veld to the north.

It took several days for police to release the number of those
killed. The number 34 surprised most of us. With only about a dozen
bodies recorded by the media, where exactly had the remaining miners
been killed, and how did they die?

Most journalists and others did not interrogate this properly. The
violence of the deaths we could see, again and again, was enough to
contend with. The police certainly did not mention what happened outside
of the view of the cameras.

The toll of 112 mineworkers (34 dead and 78 wounded) at Marikana is
one of those few bitter moments in our bloody history that has been
captured by the unblinking eye of the lens. Several lenses, in fact, and
from various viewpoints.

This has allowed the actions and reactions of both the strikers and
the police to be scrutinised in ways that undocumented tragedies can
never be. Therefore, while the motives and rationale of both parties
will never be completely clear, their deeds are quite apparent.

Thus developed a dominant narrative within the public discourse. The
facts have been fed by the police, various state entities and by the
media that the strikers provoked their own deaths by charging and
shooting at the forces of law and order. Indeed, the various images and
footage can be read to support this claim.

The contrary view is that the striking miners were trying to escape
police rubber bullets and tear gas when they ran at the heavily armed
police task team (our version of SWAT). The result was the horrific
images of a dozen or so men gunned down in a fusillade of automatic
fire.

From the outside the jumble of granite at Small Koppie, the weathered
remains of a prehistoric hill, it would appear that nothing more brutal
than the felling of the straggly indigenous trees for firewood occurred
here.

Once within the outer perimeter, narrow passages between the
weathered bushveld rocks lead into dead ends. Scattered piles of human
faeces and toilet paper mark the area as the communal toilet for those
in the miners’ shack community without pit toilets.

It is inside here, hidden from casual view, that the rocks bear the
yellow letters methodically sprayed on by the forensic team to denote
where they found the miners’ bodies. The letter N appears to take the
death toll at this site to 14. Some of the other letters are difficult
to discern, especially where they were sprayed on the dry grass and
sand.

The yellow letters speak as if they are the voices of the dead. The
position of the letters, denoting the remains of once sweating, panting,
cursing, pleading men, tell a story of policemen hunting men like
beasts. They tell of tens of murders at close range, in places hidden
from the plain sight.
N, for example, died in a narrow redoubt surrounded on four sides by
solid rock. His killer could not have been further than two meters from
him – the geography forbids any other possibility.

Why did this happen?

Let us look back at the events of Monday, 13 August, three days prior to these events.
Themba, a second-generation miner from the Eastern Cape, was present
then too. He was part of a group of some 30 strikers who were delegated
to cross the veld that separated them from another Lonmin platinum mine,
Karee.

It was at Karee mine that other rock drill operators led a wildcat
strike to demand better wages. The National Union of Mineworkers did not
support them, and management took a tough line. The strike was
unsuccessful, with many of the strikers losing their jobs. The Marikana
miners figured there were many miners there still angry enough to join
them on Wonderkop.

The Marikana strikers never reached their fellow workers; instead,
mine security turned them back and told them to return by a route
different from the one they had come by.

On this road, they met a contingent of police. Themba said there were
some 10 Nyalas and one or two police trucks or vans. The police barred
their way and told them to lay down their weapons. The workers refused,
saying they needed the pangas to cut wood, as they lived in the bush,
and more honestly, that they were needed to defend themselves.

The Friday before, they said, three of their number had been killed by people wearing red NUM T-shirts.

The police line parted and they were allowed to continue, but once
they were about 10 metres past, the police opened fire on them.

The miners turned and took on the police.

It was here, he said, that they killed two policemen and injured
another. The police killed two miners and injured a third severely, from
helicopter gunfire, Themba said. The miners carried the wounded man
back to Wonderkop, where he was taken to hospital in a car. His fate is
unknown.

Police spokesman Captain Dennis Adriao, when asked about the incident
by telephone, said public order policing officers were attacked by
miners, who hacked the two policemen to death and critically injured
another. He said eight people had been arrested until then for that
incident and for the 10 deaths prior to 16 August. “Two are in custody
in hospital who were injured in the attack on the police.”

The police version of how this event took place is quite different
from that of Themba, but what is clear is that the police had already
arrested people for the murders committed thus far.

Why, then, the urgency to confront those among the thousands camped
on Wonderkop in the days leading up to the massacre on 16 August?

But let us, in this article, not get too distracted by this obvious question, and return to the events of 16 August itself.

The South African Government Information website still carries this statement, dated from the day of the Marikana massacre:

“Following extensive and unsuccessful negotiations by SAPS members to
disarm and disperse a heavily armed group of illegal gatherers at a
hilltop close to Lonmin Mine, near Rustenburg in the North West
Province, the South African Police Service was viciously attacked by the
group, using a variety of weapons, including firearms. The Police, in
order to protect their own lives and in self-defence, were forced to
engage the group with force. This resulted in several individuals being
fatally wounded, and others injured.”

This police statement clearly states that the police acted in
self-defence, despite the fact that not a single policeman suffered any
injury on 16 August.

And as we discussed earlier, it is possible to interpret what
happened in the filmed events as an over-reaction by the police to a
threat. What happened afterwards, 400 metres away at Small Koppie, is
quite different. That police armoured vehicles drove over prostrate
miners cannot be described as self-defence or as any kind of public
order policing.

The geography of those yellow spray painted letters tells a chilling
and damning story and lends greater credence to what the strikers have
been saying.

One miner, on the morning after the massacre, told Daily Maverick
that, “When one of our miners passed a Nyala, there was a homeboy of his
from the Eastern Cape inside, and he told him that today was D-day,
that they were to come and shoot. He said there was a paper signed
allowing them to shoot us.”

The language reportedly used by the policeman is strikingly similar
to that used by Adriao early on 16 August, and quoted on MineWeb: “We
have tried over a number of days to negotiate with the leaders and with
the gathering here at the mine, our objective is to get the people to
surrender their weapons and to disperse peacefully.”

“Today is D-day in terms of if they don't comply then we will have to act ... we will have to take steps,” he said.

A little later he commented: “Today is unfortunately D-day,” police
spokesman Dennis Adriao said. “It is an illegal gathering. We've tried
to negotiate and we'll try again, but if that fails, we'll obviously
have to go to a tactical phase.”

Speaking to the possible intention of the police, let us look at how
the deployed police were armed. The weapons used by the majority of the
more than 400 police on the scene were R5 (a licensed replica of the
Israeli Galil SAR) or LM5 assault rifles, designed for infantry and
tactical police use. These weapons cannot fire rubber bullets. The
police were clearly deployed in a military manner – to take lives, not
to deflect possible riotous behaviour.

The death of their comrades three days previously set the stage for
the police, who have been increasingly accused of brutality, torture and
death in detention, to exact their revenge. What is unclear is how high
up the chain of command this desire went.

There has been police obfuscation and selective silence in a
democratic society where the police are, theoretically, accountable to
the citizenry, as well as to our elected representatives. We live in a
country where people are assumed innocent until proven guilty; where
summary executions are not within the police’s discretion.

Let us be under no illusion. The striking miners are no angels. They
can be as violent as anyone else in our society. And in an inflamed
setting such as at Marikana, probably more so. They are angry,
disempowered, feel cheated and want more than a subsistence wage.
Whatever the merits of their argument, and the crimes of some
individuals among them, more than 3,000 people gathering at Wanderkop
did not merit being vulnerable to summary and entirely arbitrary
execution at the hands of a paramilitary police unit.

In light of this, we could look at the events of 16 August as the
murder of 34 and the attempted murder of a further 78 who survived
despite the police’s apparent intention to kill them.

Back at the rocks the locals dubbed Small Koppie, a wild pear flowers
among the debris of the carnage and human excrement; a place of horror
that has until now remained terra incognita to the public. It could also
be the place where the Constitution of South Africa has been dealt a
mortal blow. DM

Note: We have put these questions to the police and they state that
they are unable to comment on, or give further detail regarding, to what
happened at and around Small Koppie 13 August. We are awaiting comment
from the IPID.

Thanks to everyone who called in today. Hundreds of people flooded the
US attorney's office with calls. This afternoon the people subpoenaed
for tomorrow's grand jury hearing received word that their appearances
were being postponed till mid September.

As of now, the solidarity demonstrations in Portland, Oregon and
Seattle, Washington have been postponed until the next appearance dates.
We will update the website when we have more details about dates and times.

Again thanks to everyone who has been calling, attending or planning
solidarity demos, putting on benefits and donating money. Your
solidarity and support is much appreciated.

****************************************************************
*"Solidarity is What the State Fears"*
Posted on August 28, 2012
A statement from Leah-Lynn Plante on her refusal to testify before the
grand jury

August 28, 2012

My name is Leah-Lynn Plante, and I am one of the people who has been
subpoenaed to a secret grand jury, meeting in Seattle on August 30.

This will be the second time I have appeared before the grand jury, and
the second time I have refused to testify. The first time was on August
2. I appeared, as ordered, and I identified myself. Then the US Attorney
asked if I would be willing to answer her questions. I said, No, and was
issued another subpoena, this time for the 30th.

A month later, my answer is still the same. No, I will not answer their
questions. I believe that these hearings are politically motivated. The
government wants to use them to collect information that it can use in a
campaign of repression. I refuse to have any part of it.

It is likely that the government will put me in jail for that refusal.

I hate the very idea of prison. But I know, if I am sent there, I will
not be alone. I can only speak for myself, but I have every faith that
the others subpoenaed to these hearings will likewise refuse. And I know
that hundreds of people have called the US Attorney demanding that they
end this tribunal. Hundreds of organizations, representing thousands of
people, signed onto a statement expressing solidarity with those of us
under attack and demanding an end to this sort of repression.

I know that those people will continue to support me, and the others
subpoenaed, and the targets of the investigation. That spirit of
solidarity is exactly what the state fears. It is the source of our
strength, yours and mine. And that strength shows itself in every act of
resistance.

(Photo: Brass Gavel via Shutterstock)We've
seen some pretty bold anti-authoritarian actions across the country in
the last month. Police vehicles were vandalized in San Francisco,
Oakland, Illinois and Milwaukee. Anarchist redecorators visited
courthouses, police substations, sports car dealerships and more.
Banners dropped in New York, Atlanta, Vancouver, Seattle and elsewhere
echoed their graffitied sentiments: "Fuck Grand Juries"; "Solidarity
with Northwest Anarchists." Boldest of all, however (and the inspiration
underpinning this spate), has been the action from a small group of
anarchists in the Pacific Northwest: silence.

Two Portland-based activists, Leah-Lynn Plante and Dennison Williams,
publicly announced late last month that they had been subpoenaed to
appear in front of a federal grand jury in Seattle and that they would
refuse to cooperate. During a grand jury hearing on August 2, Plante did
just this - offering her name and birthdate only - and has been
summoned to return for another hearing on August 30, where she again
intends to say nothing. Meanwhile, it is believed a handful of other
activists are fighting to quash subpoenas served to them with the shared
intention of noncooperation.
Grand juries are among the blackest boxes in the federal judiciary
system. Given their highly secretive nature, few people within - or
outside - activist circles know what it means to be called to a grand
jury and what it takes to resist.

"Our passion for freedom is stronger than their state prisons,"
Williams announced in a statement on behalf of himself and Plante about
their intention to resist the grand jury, referencing the fact that by
merely staying silent, the two could face considerable jail time,
despite facing no criminal charges.
The Seattle grand jury subpoenas were served in late July, when the
FBI and a Joint Terrorist Task Force conducted a series of raids on
activist homes and squats in Portland, Olympia and Seattle with warrants
seeking out computers, phones, black clothing and "anarchist
literature." The FBI has stated only that the grand jury pertains to
"violent crime," but it is believed to relate to property damage in
Seattle during this year's May Day protests. The relatively small scale
of the property destruction - a handful of spraypainted cars, slashed
tires and smashed windows at a downtown Starbucks, Niketown, Wells Fargo
and American Apparel store - in comparison to the cost of the police
and FBI investigations points to the likelihood that the raids and grand
juries have been widely dubbed a witch hunt, understood by commentators
and activists alike as an attempt to intimidate, deter and undermine
anarchists in the Northwest and beyond.

Ironically, however, the purported purpose of a federal grand jury is
to act as "a safeguard to the accused from the improper motivations of
government"- to protect the accused from prosecutorial overreach.
A jury of between 16 and 23 civilians hears evidence from a given
investigation brought by a prosecutor (the US attorney) in the form of
documents, recordings and witnesses, and decides whether there are
grounds to move forward with an indictment. However, the grand jury
process has been long and regularly used as a form of political
repression. According to Heidi Boghosian, director of the National
Lawyers Guild (the NLG is a group with a long history of advising grand
jury resisters), "abuse of grand juries includes attempts to gather
intelligence or information otherwise not easily obtained by the FBI."
As such, the grand jury process has been used to probe and intimidate
activist groups of various stripes, from the Puerto Rican Independence
Movement last century, to black liberationists, environmentalists and
anarchists.

For the grand jury resisters themselves, the time during which a
grand jury sits (typically 18 months) is a harrowing one. As the NLG's
Boghosian explained: "If someone receives a grand jury subpoena and
decides not to cooperate, that person may be held in civil contempt.
There is a chance that the individual may be jailed or imprisoned for
the length of the grand jury in an effort to coerce the person to
cooperate."

"It's actually lawful for the prosecution to hold an individual in
order to coerce cooperation, but unlawful to hold the person as a form
of punishment," said Boghosian. "In addition to facing civil contempt,
in some instances a non-cooperator may face criminal contempt charges."
For example, in 2009, Utah-based animal rights activist Jordan
Halliday spent jail time for civil contempt and was sentenced to 10
months in prison for criminal contempt for his effusive noncooperation
with a grand jury. And many resisters who were not jailed nonetheless
recount traumatic experiences.

"I thought I was doomed. I had nightmares, night sweats, turned
heavily to drinking and drugs," said a 23-year-old anarchist who refused
to cooperate with a grand jury in 2009 in New York, which reportedly
convened in regard to the placement of an incendiary device in a
metropolitan area believed to be connected to anti-war activism. The
young man, who requested to remain anonymous, remembers feeling
"helpless," believing that at any point, he could be put in jail for his
political silence.

However, he equally recalls the comfort he felt in learning that
support committees - people he did not even know - were forming and
organizing solidarity actions for him. "People having each other's back -
it's one thing we do have," he said.

And indeed, statements and acts of solidarity with the Northwest
resisters have been numerous and widespread. "Part of the purpose of
grand juries seems to be to isolate people from a network of support,
the support that puts them in a stronger place to resist," said Kristian
Williams, a member of the Committee Against Political Repression, which formed in support of the grand jury resisters.
"Solidarity actions and support also communicate to the state that
people are paying attention to how the situation is being handled.
Knowing that there is public opposition - not just a small group of
friends outside a courtroom, but people all around the country -
hopefully raises the political cost for the US attorney to continue this
repression," he added. Hundreds of people have already put in calls to
the US attorney to express opposition to the treatment of Northwest
anarchists, while over 350 organizations have signed on to a petition of
opposition put out by the Committee Against Political Repression.
Meanwhile, as mentioned above, banner drops, graffiti and other acts
have been dedicated to the grand jury resisters in the past month. A
national day of action has been called for August 30 to coincide with
Plante's second hearing.

For the New York-based resister, his act of political silence not
only affirmed certain ideas about solidarity, but served as striking
proof of personal resolve: "In a strange way, you show yourself
something important when you resist a grand jury. The things you say,
the things you believe, you find yourself actually acting upon them,
even though you know it could cost you a chunk of your life."

"It has a very powerful effect on yourself," he said.

It is a sentiment seemingly understood by the anarchists in the
Northwest as they begin their grand jury resistance ordeals. While
inviting solidarity and support in their public statement, Plante and
Dennison added, "You can show your solidarity by refusing to co-operate
with any police force and encouraging your friends and families to do
the same."

After reviewing YouTube video of the May Day riot, King County prosecutors dismissed all charges against a protestor accused of punching a bike cop.

Maria Jannett Morales, 30, was charged with assault in the fourth degree, a felony, for an incident that occurred near the intersection of First Avenue and Pike Street a few minutes before 6 p.m. on May 1, just as the day's rioting was starting to simmer down.

According to a probable cause statement statement submitted to prosecutors by Seattle police, bike cop Sonya Fry was ordering a crowd to move back when Morales walked up, said "okay bitch," and punched the female officer in the chest with a closed fist. Morales then allegedly kicked another cop in the leg.

SPD's version of events was called into question by amateur video from the scene uploaded to YouTube. The footage seems to show Morales walking past Fry, obeying orders. Then, after a brief verbal exchange, Fry grabs Morales by the shoulders and hair and pulls her down.On August 17, the charge was abruptly dropped. Dan Donahoe, spokesman for the prosecutor's office, says the video was a factor.

"We reviewed video of the alleged incident and felt that we could no longer prove a case beyond a reasonable doubt so the charge was dismissed," Donohoe says.

Aaron Pelley, Morales' attorney, says prosecutors had no business filing charges in the first place.
"Maria didn't really hit that officer," Pelley says. "There's nothing in my mind that thinks somebody didn't yell at that officer, or she didn't feel somebody hit her. But as far as I can tell, it wasn't my client."

Morales has no criminal record aside from a few traffic tickets. Nevertheless, Pelley says she lost her job as an emergency room technician in Bellevue because of the arrest.

"I don't know that she comes out ahead on all of this," Pelley says. "But we're certainly glad the prosecutors looked at the evidence and decided to dismiss."

Two others have pleaded guilty. Robert Ditrani pleaded guilty on June 22 to disorderly conduct. He was sentenced July 6 and received a 90-day suspended sentence and 12 months of probation. Paul Campiche pleaded guilty on August 22 to attempted assault in the third degree. He will be sentenced October 5.

See an extended cut of the YouTube video that shows Morales arrest, and court documents associated with her case on the following page.Maria Morales Order of DismissalMaria Jannett Morales ChargesThis post was updated Monday, August 27, at 1 p.m. The original version mistakenly reported that Morales was charged with third-degree assault, disorderly conduct, and rioting. Her charge was actually fourth-degree assault.

The Leonard Peltier Defense/Offense Committee is presenting their
campaign plans to our supporters, friends and allies in the 36-year
movement to bring Leonard Peltier home. With Leonard in our minds,
hearts and spirit, we will try to bring him home. That is our goal and
commitment, and we will do this is with your support. This outline means
nothing without each of you rising to this call and putting your energy
into it.

In the urgent spirit of this campaign, we will begin directing our
concerns to those with the ability to influence change, namely,
President Obama.

**Write a letter to Obama about your feelings and outrage at Leonard’s
continued imprisonment.

The Honorable Barack H. Obama
President of The United States of America
The White House
1600 Pennsylvania Avenue NW
Washington, DC 20500
Comments: 202-456-1111
White House Fax: 202-456-2461
TTY/TDD Comments: 202-456-6213

**Encourage your church leaders and members to write President Obama,
including any humanitarian groups on their stationary.

Contact congressional delegates. Schedule a meeting to talk with them
about Leonard’s case. This is your opportunity to urge them to take a
position on Leonard’s release. Seize the opportunity to educate members
of Congress who may not know the specifics of the case or even about
Leonard Peltier. Meet with those who are sitting on the fence. Others
who are long-time supporters need to be asked to become Leonard’s
champions in this important year. You might want to frame your request
for a meeting with a phrase similar to “How may we work together to seek
justice for Native Americans? How may I help you in your role as a
leader?” Then ASK your representative, along with his colleagues, to
write a personal letter to President Obama urging the immediate release
of Leonard Peltier.

*Talking points:*

1. Leonard has served over 36 years in prison.
2. The government has conceded that it does not know who shot the two
agents.
3. The government is still fighting vigorously to prevent the release
of thousands of pages of documents under FOIA – documents that
should have been turned over to defense attorneys years ago.
4. Leonard will be 68 on September 12th; he is not in the best of health.

*Tribal Council Resolutions* (If tribal member)

Contact us to assist you in getting a resolution passed by your tribal
council.

*Phone Actions Every Friday: Call the White House for Leonard: 202-456-1112*

The average hold time has been 5-6 minutes. If we are waiting 10-15,
then we are building our presence in the White House for Leonard. This
is necessary and must be maintained.

*International Supporters:* Write letters to President Obama, and urge
your government/parliament, etc. to issue an official position on
Peltier’s case and to bring Peltier up to the state department and
Obama. Also, contact your U.N. representatives to consider a resolution
directed to President Obama to carefully review the Peltier case, in
regards to clemency.

This time, the agents who have opposed Leonard’s bid for freedom will
fail, because the lies will not be covered up or twisted. They are
afraid Obama will do the right thing, so join us in setting this prairie
fire for Leonard for the last time! He doesn’t have the luxury of time,
and we have none to waste.

Don’t anyone dare let their hearts hit the ground because we have to
work harder to get him out after his birthday. The most powerful means
of accomplishing our goal is to know in your heart that this will
happen. And if we get some good news, such as a transfer, don’t let up.
Instead, increase your efforts and never stop believing you will be a
part of something wonderful and honorable.

*Sample letter to President Obama:*

Your name
Address
City, State, Zip Code

The Honorable Barack H. Obama
President of The United States of America
The White House
1600 Pennsylvania Avenue NW
Washington, DC 20500

re: Leonard Peltier USP #89637-132

Dear President Obama,

This letter is among millions that have been written to US presidents on
behalf of Leonard Peltier in the past 36 years of his incarceration.
Foreign heads of state and world religious leaders, members of Congress
and even a federal judge who was hamstrung by legal precedents have
asked for clemency in Peltier's case.

The deaths of the agents is a horrible tragedy for their families, but a
even greater tragedy is being done to Mr. Peltier, who has been
nominated for the Nobel prize six times for his humanitarian works from
behind prison walls.

As an American citizen, my conscience has been haunted by the inability
of previous administrations to do the right thing and let Peltier go
home. When I look at the trial as a whole, there is shocking information
about FBI and prosecutorial misconduct in his case. What happened, Mr.
President, that an American, an American Indian at that, can languish in
a federal prison for so long without a real look at what happened to him?

I have been aware that some federal agents have been actively
undermining Mr. Peltier's efforts for years. They have lied about the
evidence and testimony, and ignore evidence to the contrary in their
statements to keep Mr. Peltier imprisoned. Attorney General Janet Reno
reprimanded FBI Director Freeh for voicing his complaint publicly.

Mr. President, we ask that you please take a very detailed review of Mr.
Peltier's cases, including the withheld FBI records supposedly
classified for national security reasons, inquire about his transfer to
a medium security facility that meets his classification, and grant
clemency. Mr. Peltier also is eligible for a parole under a 30 year law,
but has not been granted this according to 28 U.S.C., section 4206(d).

When you were elected to the Oval Office, millions of us felt we were
granted a fresh of breath air, and through this we hope that you will
grant Mr. Peltier a breath of fresh free air. I'm sure you will see the
world rejoice.

Break the Chains.info

is a news and discussion forum for supporters of political prisoners, prisoners of war, politicized social prisoners, and victims of police and state intimidation.

This blog is organized and updated autonomously of the disbanded Break the Chains Prisoner Support Network formerly based in Eugene, Oregon. While this online project shares several of the same concerns as the old Break the Chains collective, no formal organization exists behind the current web presence.

"I will never surrender my pride and dignity nor allow the system to 'cut my tongue' and I will always, without fear, speak out against these war crimes and crimes against humanity, no matter if I spend the rest of my life in a prison cage, and draw my last breath of air laying down in this steel bed surrounded by razor-wire fences and cages, and its prison policies that are designed to destroy one's humanity…."